


We will not fight your war

by Plugs



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plugs/pseuds/Plugs
Summary: Motormaster laughed. “We were new builds with guns shoved in our hands, but cuz we were built crazy and weren’t nice enough you didn’t give a shit.” His servos were shaking.Motormaster is tired of him and his boys being their tools, their weapons. They will not fight *their* war any longer.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	We will not fight your war

Motormaster remembered coming online. He remembered looking at his own form in wonder. He lifted and looked at his hand as it flexed and moved. He brought his hand to his face to feel it and smiled for the first time. 

Motormaster then sat up and saw others like him stirring awake. Their thoughts and emotions suddenly exploded in his spark and mind and he felt like his eyes were opening again. He crawled off the platform and met his brothers for the first time.

In those untainted, innocent moments they’d touched and held each other in joy and love. There was no need for words—they were his and he was theirs.

“...Hook, why are my new warriors _cuddling_?!”

The innocence ended.

* * *

Optimus Prime. His enemy. The one Motormaster had been created to kill. The Prime’s red, blue and white plating was ash and mud strained by battle. His body bowed with exhaustion, yet he fought on.

Motormaster grinned and charged the Prime, his sword in hand ready to drive it into the Prime’s spark. The Prime was caught off guard, his optics went wide then—

“—Stop you fool! The prime is _mine_!,” Megatron roared. He shoved Motormaster out of the way sending him face first into the churned battlefield mud.

When he pushed himself up Motormaster watched as they beat each other to a standstill. Megatron called a retreat.

Then he saw it again in the next battle.

And again.

* * *

It was ironic in a way, Motormaster felt. Megatron hated humans unless he could use them, saw them as useless for the most part. But it was humans that set Motormaster and his gestalt free. Connecting to the human network known as the internet was easy, but most ‘Cons didn’t bother.

Perhaps it was because the Stunticon’s had never known Cybertron. No one had played Hax with them, shared a holofilm or even taught them how to read beyond basic preprogrammed glyphs.

So they turned to the humans. They taught themselves to read their languages. Watched cartoons and videos. They read tiny paper books and listened to music on miniature human devices.They learned and the ignorance ended.

“This isn’t right!” Breakdown said.

“What?” Motormaster growled. His temper was simmering as the pain from his dents ached though his chassis.

“Megatron shouldn’t hit you,” Breakdown said. “it’s wrong...and I‘m scared he’ll kill you one day.”

Motormaster hoped Megatron would. It would get this slag over with and he would stop being a disappointment. No matter how hard he tried he was never good enough for Megatron. Even when Megatron interfaced with him as a reward Motormaster felt hollow, it always left him scrubbing his plating raw.

But then...his boys would be left alone with no one to protect them.

“We could run away,” Dragstrip said. “Megatron can’t hit you if we keep away from him.”

“Are we having a road trip?” Wildrider asked.

“No. We try to run away he’ll catch us. You keep pissing him off and he’ll turn on you, and I ain’t letting that happen,” Motormaster said.

“He’ll kill us all eventually,” Deadend said. “I’d rather die chasing freedom then under Megatron’s servos.”

So they ran.

* * *

Prowl and Jazz watched the footage Skyspy had captured from the abandoned airbase. Motormaster appeared to be snoozing on the dry grass with Breakdown curled up in his arms. Deadend had a tiny human book in his servos and turned the delicate pages with a finger.

“Want me to do something about them?” Jazz asked.

Prowl lowered his wings as he watched Dragstrip and Wildrider play wrestled with glee. “No,” he replied.

“Good,” Jazz replied cheerfully. “If you’d said yes, I’d have defected and joined them.”

Prowl wasn’t sure if that was a joke, and didn’t feel brave enough to ask.

* * *

“What the fuck are you doing here,” Motormaster growled. The Constructicons stood in a unit. They were trying to display strength but he could practically smell their fear.

Hook grimaced. “Apologising. We can reinforce and improve the temperature regulation of the hanger, add internet and radio access. Furnishings such as proper recharge berths. Defences.”

Motormaster laughed. “You think that’ll change anything? How do I know you’re not here to drag us back to Megatron?”

“Can’t blame you for not trusting us,” Bonecrusher said. “We’re still ‘Cons.”

“No, _he_ doesn’t deserve trust.” Motormaster pointed at Hook “He was the one that on-lined us an’ pulled us apart before we even knew who we were.”

“So Megatron wouldn’t beat you. Or reprogram you,” Hook replied. “Please _._ I cannot cope with the feeling of gu—“

“—Fine. Do what you’re gonna do then...” Motormaster sighed. “Leave. Leave and stop making me feel sorry for you.”

“I...am,” Hook twitched and his mouth contorted. “...Sorry.” Then immediately the Constructicons got to work.

Motormaster sat on his new berth hours later. He remembered each time he went to see Hook after the latest rape or beating. Hook never once told him he ‘sorry’ for anything, but he’d look at Motormaster sometimes. He’d look with something like pity.

It wasn’t enough. And it never would be.

* * *

But defences didn’t stop Optimus Prime and several of his troops rolling up. The black and white second in command, Prowl, looked uneasy. Like he didn’t want to be here but didn’t feel he actually had a choice. 

“We have come to talk. We wish you no harm,” Prowl said from the edge of the perimeter. His troops stood to attention with the late evening light gleaming off their guns.

“Yeah, then why have you brought an army?” Motormaster asked from inside the defence perimeter. His boys were waiting for his signal nearby. “Either clear off or Menasor an’ the laser turrets _make_ you leave.”

Prowl’s wings twitched but he nodded and began to turn away. 

Optimus held up his servo. “I wish to ask something,” Optimus said. “before you were Decepticon warriors. The Autobots could—“

Motormaster laughed. “We were new builds with guns shoved in our hands, but cuz we were built crazy and weren’t nice enough you didn’t give a _shit_.” His servos were shaking. “You think you’re better than Megatron, don’t you?.”

“I don’t—“

Motormaster interrupted again, “You see us as broken children, not mechs who’ve fought to build ourselves anew. That thing in your chest makes you think you’re better than us. That it’s your job to save us—we don’t fucking _need_ saving!”

“But the matrix—“

“Matrix is a lump of metal Prime.”

“You cannot talk about the holy relics of Primus like this!” The Prime backed away from Motormaster in horror.

“—where was Primus when I getting beaten? where the hell was he when I was getting raped?” Motormaster growled. “You an’ Megatron can go blow each other up. We ain’t tools to be passed from hand to hand. We will not fight _your_ war!”

The Prime had enough sense to leave them. Him and his army slowly slunk away into the night. 

* * *

One day Megatron would come for him. Motormaster knew this. And one day the Prime would come back. Motormaster wouldn’t fight Megatron’s war and Prime wouldn’t win it. He wasn’t their weapon, he didn’t belong to anyone but himself and his boys.

Motormaster checked the edge on his sword. After all, he never said he wouldn’t end the war. 


End file.
